Page 6 of Playing the Backbeat

I reach behind me, tugging on the handle of the cooler, grabbing the first bottle I feel without looking. I slide the bottle opener from my armband, pop the top off the bottle, and place it on the bar in front of him.

“That’ll be thirty dollars.”

He laughs, throwing down forty, not bothering to call me out for upcharging the literal fuck out of him.

“Thanks for the generous tip,” I say, blowing him a kiss as I walk away.

I hear his laugh all the way to his table, where he joins a small group of people. I watch him for a second, always interested in how people act in their real life versus work life. Dylan couldn’t seem more relaxed. He appears to be his usual self—charismatic, charming, low-key, chill—even with the people he works with. Must be nice. I haven’t ever known that kind of ease in the workplace. Even with the level of familiarity I’d had with my coworkers, I still had to beonall the time to be taken seriously.

A man in his forties stumbles over to the bar. “Hey, beautiful. I came for another drink but…wow. I didn’t expect to find royalty behind the bar.”

Aaaaaand there goes my good mood.

I look at the obnoxious, clearly wasted guy at my bar, leaning far too heavily on the structure for support. Pointing at the door, I roll my eyes and bark, “Out.”

I glance at Dylan only to find that his relaxed demeanor has evaporated. His shoulders are tense and he’s standing, his bar stool pushed back. He looks ready to sprint over here. And he’s staring at me with an intensity I’ve never seen from him before. I’m distracted when Paul and another one of the security guys approach the bar. After confirming this guy is way too drunk to be served, Paul escorts him out of the front door. My eyes meet Dylan’s from across the bar, and even though the music is loud, I can hear every word in that look.

Do you need me?

I shake my head and he visibly softens. A small nod is all I get before he sits, refocusing his attention on his coworkers.

Dylan and I have known each other for years, but truthfully, it’s not often he and I spend time together alone. There was more than enough chemistry between us when we met, but neither one of us have ever made a move to pursue something more. Have I considered it? Absolutely. Having both been designated the smart-asses of the group, he speaks my language. Confident,over the top, and impossible to ignore. We give each other more shit than anyone else in our circle. Hell, just weeks ago we were at each other’s throats over something so small I don’t even remember what it was. I do remember refusing to give in and loving the battle of wits he’s always ready to bring to the table, but it’s never crossed that line.

But in this moment, I’m grateful he’s here. In this bar I never expected to work in, at this point in my life, when I thought I’d have everything figured out. I’m relieved to have someone I trust in my corner tonight, even if I can’t explain everything that’s going on.

I spend the rest of my night feeling more comfortable than I have since I started. And it isn’t until I’m home in my apartment that I recognize that look Dylan was giving me all night. It was protective.

I smile at the thought. Isn’t that cute? Dylan thinks I need protecting.

I’ll have to remind him who the fuck I am.

Chapter two

Dylan

“Hey, this place could be great,” Dom says with too much enthusiasm, it’s practically bubbling out of him.

When my landlord told me he needed to sell the apartment I was leasing, I understood. He’s moving out of state to take care of a relative.

Being given a short turnaround time to find a place to live in downtown Columbus kind of fucks me over though. Now I have thirty days to find somewhere to go. Well…more like twenty days now.

This is probably the seventh apartment I’ve checked out, all with issues or no immediate availability. I’m facing at least a four-month waitlist for anywhere decent that won’t include a pain-in-the-ass commute to my job downtown.

Most nights, I work late. Being a manager at the Bridge, the oldest concert venue in the city, requires a flexible schedule. And being close is a necessity for me to have any semblance of a work-life balance.

I considered making an offer to buy out my current apartment, but the guy’s selling the place to family, which puts me shit out of luck.

“Could bebeing the important part of that statement.” I check the paper the receptionist handed me in the leasing office. “Waitlist is at least five months.” I step up to the window, looking out over the arena district. It’s an incredible area to live in, with a fun nightlife and close proximity to work. Which is probably why all of Columbus is ahead of me on the waitlist.

“Shit, man. You know you’re always welcome to stay with Ellie and me. I know it’s not ideal with the commute…”

“Dom, you are the most selfless guy I know. But I promise, you don’t want me on your couch for five months.”

“We have a guest room. You should at least consider it.”

I roll my head around my shoulders, fighting off the stress that threatens to tighten my muscles into knots so big I’ll never be able to tilt my head again. “I did. And I love both you and Ellie for it. But you have a family. I’m not going to disrupt your life with my insane work schedule. Besides, coming and going from suburbia to downtown isn’t exactly ideal.”

He stuffs his hands into his pockets and rocks onto his heels. “I don’t think you’re going to have the luxury ofideal. I think you’re going to have a shitty emergency plan followed by a hopefully not-so-shitty, long-term solution.”